


Blackwatch's Finest

by Nomelah



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Reyes, Blackwatch reader, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gabriel Reyes is the light of my life, Hoo boy what a fucken ride, PTSD, Reader/OC - Freeform, Slow Burn, bisexual female reader - Freeform, pre fall of overwatch, reader had a former relationship with a woman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9803096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomelah/pseuds/Nomelah
Summary: You could run all you wanted from Blackwatch, but Reyes would always find you and drag you back. You supposed it wasn't all bad though. You were always a little too good at your job anyways.





	1. The Pugilist

"A lot of 'em didn't think we'd be seeing you anymore, especially after your last fight."

The words were suspended uncomfortably in the air, unresolved and yet you both understood the message. Your eyes remained glued to your hands as you wrapped the gauze around the left. Such a familiar motion. How could you have forgotten it?

"I knew you'd come back." The omnic quietly mused as he held out a hand in an offer to complete the wrapping. Your eyes flicked shut as you took a deep, stuttering breath. You hesitantly put your hand in his cold metal one, your eyes cast down. His hands began to fix your attempts at the first wrap, and he continued his statement. "You've got a bloodlust."

The room was cold. You could faintly hear cheering upstairs. The quiet humming of the omnic's generator vibrated into his hands. Finishing the first wrap, he took your other hand and started pulling the gauze around it. 

"Guess so." You mumbled, your eyebrows raising as you cleared your throat. Goosebumps rose along your exposed skin as the buzzer went off upstairs. _Only a few more minutes._ The realization dawned on you, inciting conflicting feelings of anxiousness and complete ease. You felt hypersensitive to your surroundings, each tick of the clock echoed in your brain. The cheering and screaming of the crowd above sent shivers down your spine. And yet, even after all this time it still felt so familiar. Beneath all those feelings of nervousness and guilt, excitement coiled up in your gut. Thoughts raced through your mind, and yet you felt subdued, as if you were floating. 

The omnic's rhythmic motions stopped, and you seemed to wake up. The gauze hand wraps were done. His hands still held yours, the metal plating now warm with your body heat. Your eyes finally slid up to his. 

"I'd wish you good luck, but I know you don't need it." He gently squeezed your hands in his, and then released them. Your mouth was dry as you replied.

"I'll see you after the fight." 

He nodded, light reflecting dully on his rusted face from the flickering lamp above your heads. He stepped away, leaving the dark room. Your legs dangled over the edge of the exam table. You leaned over, resting your elbows on your knees and dropping your head into your hands. A cold sweat had gathered on your temple. Another buzzer rang out upstairs. 

_Let's do this._

You slipped off of the table, grabbing your robe and pulling it on as you left the small room. You climbed the stairs two at a time, clenching your gauze wrapped hands. The screaming echoed in the stairwell, growing louder as you ascended. Your bare feet padded quietly on the cement steps, carrying you along until you finally met the door. Your eyes slid shut as you leaned back on the wall, propping your foot up against it. Shaky fingers drummed patterns into your crossed arms. 

There was a surge of hot air and cheering as the door slid open. Your eyes open before you push off the wall, uncrossing your arms and clenching your fists. The man at the door does little to acknowledge you as you leave the cold stairwell and make your way down that oh-so-familiar hallway. You're holding your breath. 

You're reaching the end of the hallway, the cheering has become deafening now. You force yourself to relax, loosening your shoulders and easing the tense expression on your face.

You step out, and a spotlight is on you now. Your face is plastered on the holoscreen. You know there are some who will recognize you, but your eyes remain on the ring. A boy about your age stands triumphant, facing the crowd with his arms held high. _He's cocky._

You slip through the ring ropes, and your opponent finally turns to face you. He's new, he wouldn't know you. There's blood on his handwraps. 

"Who's the girl?" His voice is barely heard over the roaring of the crowd. You examine his coach, faintly recognizing him. The coach's eyes are dark as he looks you over. _You know who I am._

"There aren't regulations on gender. Besides, all you need to know is that she's dangerous." 

The spotlight burns into your skin. Your eyes flit up to the holoscreen, where your face is still on display. The boy is examining you now, a wary glint to his eyes. A shrug of your shoulders sends the robe wrapped around you cascading to the floor, leaving you in your black sports bra and shorts.

The referee is standing in the center of the ring announcing the fight, but you can't hear his words as he goes over the rules, or lack thereof. This moment stretches on for what seems like ages as you examine your surroundings with sangfroid. And then the moment is over. The ref is quiet. He's stepping out of the ring, and your opponent is already advancing with fists raised. 

He throws a quick punch at your face. You dodge with ease, allowing him a few moments to attack. His face is set, realizing you're not going to be taken down easily. He jabs with his left arm, and you dodge to the right, landing a blow to his ribcage with a closed fist. A snarl ripped free of his mouth and his elbow snapped you square in the chest. 

For a fraction of a second you were in shock, your lungs screeching as you gave yourself a millisecond to recover. He's quick though, and he knocks your feet out from under you with a swift swipe of his foot. You're on your back with a grunt, and your arms shoot up to the sides of your face to block his blows. _Need to move._ He's pinned you down with his weight, and brute force wouldn't get you out of this. _Wait for an opening._ His blows land hard and fast on your forearms, but the slightest hesitation between hits would give you the chance you needed to get out of this. _There!_

Using sheer force and your body's momentum, you jolt up, freeing your legs and knocking him back. He's not expecting it, only those who've seen you fight knew it was coming. You were fast, sure, but even more so you were strong. A force to be reckoned with. Before he can regain his surroundings, you're throwing punches at a blinding speed. He barely dodges several blows, until you land a hit with a sickening crack. 

He gasps, and for a moment you're thrown back into time.

_Sweat stinging in your eyes and blood staining your hand wraps. A broken body lies on the mat. Refs are dragging you back. The crowd is screaming, but not with excitement. Your eyes slowly drift to those in the stands. Horror is written on their faces. Your breath catches, and you blink down at your hands, your vision hazy and blurred with tears. No, blood._

This flashback allows him to launch at you with closed fists. Sweat makes whatever hair you couldn't pull back stick to your forehead. You can't breathe. _Fight._ He's pummeling your body with blows. _Fight!_

A snarl tears free from your throat, and you seem to find it in you to tear away from the past and fight back. You fight dirty, elbows and kicks and feigned throws. The crowd's screaming sends you into a flurry, and there's little your opponent can do to fight back. 

He stumbles onto his back, and it's over for him. It only takes a couple blows before he submits and you win the match. You jump away from him, and the ref climbs into the ring, holding up your hand. A glance up to the screen shows your bloody and beaten face. There's a cut down your lip and above your eyebrow. Where your name should've been was an empty slot. 

Your eyes flick back down to the people crowding the ring. And then your eyes fall on him. His outfit is inconspicuous enough to almost blend in with the crowd, and yet he stands out to you. He had a different mood about him, always threatening, powerful, and yet, smug. He held himself above those surrounding him. His arms crossed over his broad chest. Right now, his smug attitude is replaced entirely with an emotion you can't seem to read from this distance. Your throat clenches, and there's a sickening feeling in your stomach. You know his eyes are burning into yours, and you can't seem to look away. _Fuck._

...

The pain doesn't hit you until thirty minutes later, when your endorphins wear off and your Commander is staring you down in a hotel room on the outskirts of town as you dress your wounds. He hasn't spoken a word to you yet. After the fight, he took you to the car and drove you to the hotel. If anything, the silence was more painful than if he was lecturing you. 

"We needed you."

When his growl finally broke the silence, your eyes flicked up to his steely form. His arms were crossed tight over his chest, his frame leaned up against the wall. You slowly set down the bloodied rag on the bedspread, your hands falling to your lap.

"I know."

"Huh." You can feel your face burning, your skin must be crimson now. At least the room was dim. Ripping your eyes away from his closed form, you picked up the rag again. His silence was oppressive.

Your throat was dry. Your tongue swiped over your chapped and cut lips, the metallic taste of blood flooding your mouth. The rag in your hands gently wiped over a cut on your ribs. 

"Can you bring one of those table lamps over?" You didn't look up to him as you asked, your focus remaining on your injury. He pushed off of the wall without a sound, walking around the bed to grab the lamp and remove the shade. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as the rag hit a sore spot. Reyes brought the light over, dropping to balance on the balls of his feet and angling it so you could better see your injuries. He grimaced, but you pretended not to notice. 

"I've had worse. We both have." You murmured, setting the rag down next to you. It was true. There had been all too many missions where you'd be rushed into the med bay on a stretcher afterwards. The purple and greenish bruises decorating your body now were mere paper cuts in comparison to your worst injuries. 

"Did you break anything?" His voice was a gruff whisper. You shook your head, eyes glued to your hands. You could feel his gaze burning on your face.

"No." He nodded, setting the lamp down onto the floor. "Good." Reyes stood back up. Your breath hitched and the question that had been tormenting you since the fight finally tore itself free. 

"What are you doing here?" Your head angled up to him, your eyes narrowed. His left hand went up to his hair, carding through the unkempt black curls. His stance was tense now.

"I don't take too kindly to my agents going AWOL. You still have a contract to fill." His words were clipped short and impatient.

"I couldn't stay in Blackwatch. Not after what happened in Russia. 

He visibly stiffened, his dark eyes scanning you. 

"You were my best agent."

Your eyebrows knit together, but the rest of your face remained passive to his words.

"Did you think I was unaffected by what we were doing?" Your voice was hushed. 

"Nobody is unaffected by our work. It's a matter of who could handle it. You? You could handle it." His tone was sharp and caustic, his eyes held a challenging glint. 

"Gabriel, we tortured people. We killed and stole from everyone who stood in Overwatch's way. Don't tell me that what we did didn't have an affect on you!" Your voice slowly rose in pitch until you found yourself standing up from the bed to face him. 

At a mere foot away from his body, you were able to notice the few strands of white in his hair. You wondered vaguely how long they'd been there. His augmented body radiated heat, even from a foot away. 

"You were a criminal before I picked you up and saved you from a lifetime imprisonment. You've done horrible things without Blackwatch's help. Don't pin it all on us." His voice was a low snarl, his arms crossing again over his chest. In this light you noticed the new scar crossing over his left cheekbone.

"I'm not going back." Your voice was quiet again, your eyes falling from his scarred face. You slumped onto the bed, massaging out your bicep for a moment. You fell onto your back, exhaling deeply.

"Blackwatch still needs you. You've been gone for two months now."

"Recruit someone else then. I won't do it. I've killed enough people, Gabriel." Your commander tensed, but after a moment of examining you, he only sighed, leaning back into the wall. The room was silent for a few painfully long seconds before he spoke again.

"When did you start fighting?"

"Nineteen, two years after you guys picked me up." You mumbled, your eyes examining the cracks running through the white hotel ceiling. God, it seemed like forever ago. Five years ago you'd been picked up. A year since you'd ran off. Gabriel nodded silently, waiting for you to continue. "I stopped fighting around two years ago. There was a boy, was maybe eighteen. I uh- I got caught up in the fight. I thought I was out there.” You jerked your chin towards the window. In the field. “I ended up killing him. I'd killed people before, but he was innocent. Had his whole life ahead of him."

You could feel Gabriel's eyes on your body. 

"Was that the night you showed up at my quarters at 2 AM?"

"Yeah." You whispered. Gabriel sighed, his arms dropping to his sides. 

"Right." He crossed the room to sit down next to you on the bed. The mattress sunk with his weight. You took the moment to examine his silhouette. 

"How's everyone back in Blackwatch?"

"The vaquero is turning out to be a good agent. Got me damn near killed a few times out there, but he's quick to learn." The man at the end of your bed sighed, his voice tired. "The Okeke twins were transferred to Morrison's unit, I hear they're thriving." He paused, and your gut clenched. His next words were hushed. "Kovalev was killed four days after you left."

Your throat closed up, a lump immediately forming. You struggled to swallow. Marina Kovalev. The two of you had been... close. Maybe closer than you should've been. She was one of the last surviving members of your training group. Over the years she came to be one of your best friends. You'd grown apart after being transferred to Reyes' squad, but you still held a strange fondness for your former squad mate. Tears stung at your eyes.

"I... uhm." You took a steadying breath, blinking the tears from your eyes. Your voice was still shaky. "How?"

"She went missing two days after you took off. We figured she went after you, put resources into hunting the both of you down." Reyes' voice was hushed as he turned to stare out the hotel room window. "We gave up after two weeks, kept an eye out for you two, but nothing came up. Then two months later I get a comm from one of my scouts I'd put on her case. They found her corpse in a seedy motel bathroom tub." You fought to keep your head steady as his low voice rumbled on. Not Marina. Maybe you were both a little too hot headed for each other. You fought about everything. But you'd be damned to say you didn't feel something towards her. Hell. You were probably damned already. "We have the entire crime scene report and all of her belongings gathered for you, in case you returned."

Reyes was painfully silent for a moment. You couldn't collect your thoughts into coherent ideas. Short blurbs and memories. Her silky dark hair. Disbelief. Anger. Big and pale green eyes. The blue veins under her skin. Complete and utter confusion.

"She had you on her roster as next of kin. Case files and belongings all belong to you now, should you come to retrieve them."

"It doesn't seem..."

"Real?" He finished gently after your sentence died into the air, scattered like dust in the wind. You nodded, pressing your palms into your eyes until black and white spots were all you could see. "I get it." You dropped your arms, blinking blearily a few times to attempt to regain some vision. After a few moments you sat up, your bare shoulder barely brushing his sweatshirt. Gabriel's dark eyes followed your every movement warily before sighing and beginning to speak.

"I just need you for one mission, then you're pardoned. Your contract?Revoked. You can go on living your life, or stay with us." You bristled at his words, anger bubbling up in your gut. You jerked away from him, 

"Gabriel, how many times do I need to fucking say it?! I'm not-." 

"It's just an escort mission. You're not killing anyone unless they try to kill you."

"Then why not another goddamned Blackwatch agent?!" Gabriel was abnormally quiet at your question. You picked up on his unease within a second. He was hiding something from you. Your voice dropped to a quiet murmur. "Trust goes both ways, Gabriel. I won't trust you until you trust me." His frame slouched, the energy sapped from his body.

"There's a mole."

Your gut dropped. Even if you'd gone AWOL, your mind perceived dangers to Blackwatch's safety as a danger to your safety. You swiped your tongue over your split lip.

"Shit." You breathed softly. 

Captain Reyes huffed an agreement, pausing before continuing.

"When you left I thought it might've been you, the mole I mean. I kept an ear open for you, but then we had another leak, and I realized it couldn't have been you."

"Your confidence in me is astounding."

"You'd have done the same." Gabriel let loose a tired and mirthless chuckle. "I trust you to safely deliver the woman to and from the Summit. You'd be keeping her safe for the week of negotiations as well."

"I never agreed to this."

"I don't think you've got much of a choice." His voice was quiet. A bitter smile pulled at the corners of your lips.

"You've got a knack for giving me options like that." You released a heavy sigh, your eyes falling shut. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you opened your eyes, studying Gabriel's silhouette. "When do I start?"

"We'll return to the Blackwatch headquarters the day after tomorrow. You start your mission in a week."

You nodded slowly, carefully processing this information. Gabriel's face was devoid of emotion, but his eyes were tired. You stood, crossing the room to grab your sweatshirt from the top of the dresser and pulling it on. 

"Let's go get a drink." You murmured, your eyes falling on your captain. Reyes was quiet for a moment before finally sighing. 

"Yeah." He stood, stretching out his muscular body. "I could use a drink."


	2. Empty Words

The door to your room slid open with a quiet hiss. The dorm was dark, the air stale. You took a hesitant step inside, your hand finding the light switch with practiced ease. It was like you’d never left, as if these past few months had never occurred. Everything was exactly as you had left it. You dropped your drawstring bag, turning back around to face the commander again.

“Welcome home.” Reyes spoke, his dark eyes falling heavy on you. You turned your head to the desk in the corner of the small dorm. The picture in the desktop frame caught the glare from the lights. Your breath hitched.

“This isn’t my home, sir.” You finally got out. Reyes followed your gaze, his usually hard-set face softening, if even just a minuscule amount. 

“I’ll be able to get you her case file and room key by tonight.” The lump in your throat threatened to choke you up. You swallowed, taking a moment to get it together. 

“Thanks Reyes.” He looked hesitant for a moment, starting to turn and make his exit, but paused. You could almost see the words working through his head. His expression was unusually gentle.

“If you need anything, anything at all, I’m here.” Reyes’ voice was soft, his hand rested on the doorframe. You nodded slowly, and then again, as if to reassure yourself. 

“Of course.”

His hand dropped from the doorway, the door sliding shut behind him. Your eyes slid shut, a slow sigh escaping your lips. A shaky breath in, and you opened your eyes, turning back to the desk. You swept up your light bag in one hand as you approached, setting it down gently on the aluminum desktop. Your bandaged hand wrapped tentatively around the picture frame, picking it up and rubbing away the dust that had settled over the glass.

The picture was a candid photo you’d snapped of her, taken only a couple of days after having completed training and becoming full fledged members of Blackwatch. She was laughing at something you’d said, her straight nose scrunched up in laughter and her white teeth glinting. If you tried hard enough you could still hear the sound. The setting sun cast her in a golden light, showing that her hair was not in fact black, like you thought it was, but a dark brown. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and your gut wrenched. Kovalev has the most gorgeous pale green eyes. 

_Had._

Marina Kovalev _had_ the most gorgeous pale green eyes.

It didn’t feel real. The knowledge felt like a rumor whispered around the halls of a highschool, horrible and grotesque. Like some awful joke or prank. You’d wake in the morning to find the rumor debunked, and that Kovalev had been on vacation, or visiting a sick relative, and that most importantly she was alive and safe. 

You supposed the only reason you hadn’t completely lost it yet was that you hadn’t fully come to accept her death as reality. Your thoughts were nebulous, fading in and out of consciousness. Numbly, you crossed the room to your bed, photo still in hands. You didn’t bother with your shoes, keeping them on as you climbed atop the covers. You laid on your back, your stare falling much further than the ceiling. The photo rested facedown on your abdomen, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of the picture frame. 

Sleep didn’t befall you. You didn’t cry. You didn’t move much more than your fingers. You didn’t think. You probably would have remained in that state until the next morning.

The knock at your door pulled you from your trance. You sat up, the picture frame falling to your lap. You tucked it beneath your pillow. Reyes was probably here with the key and case file. Another knock.

“One moment!” Slipping from the bed, you crossed the room and hit the door controls. 

Jesse McCree stood on the other side, fist raised to knock on the door again. He dropped his hand, face breaking out in a grin. He was taller than the last time you’d met him, and he’d bulked up some too. Reyes had picked him up only a couple months before you’d left. You remembered him as a scrappy kid. 

“I’ll be damned, Reyes really did bring ya back.” 

“He’s persuasive like that.” You laughed, your body relaxing against the doorway. Jesse’s warm brown eyes searched your face, becoming solemn. Your gut wrenched, a reminder of why you were here.

“So where were you then?” 

You sighed, a bandaged hand coming up to rub at your eyes. Jesse eyed the gauze.

“Right to business.” You mumbled, sweeping a cursory glance over your room. “Come on in.” You settled on the foot of your tiny bed.

Jesse sat backwards at the desk chair, his arms crossing over the back of it. He’d been in your dorm once, when you had unintentionally hosted cards night for half of Blackwatch. You still couldn’t figure out how a dozen agents had managed to squeeze themselves into your tiny dorm. And in the first place, you had only invited a couple over. Reyes eventually found out, dismissing the group, and then he’d quietly arranged the next cards night to take place in his room with his favorite Blackwatch members. 

The kid examined your dorm, his brown eyes lingering on the decidedly less-dusty place where the picture frame had been. You weren’t sure how much he knew. To be honest, you didn’t really want to know. You hesitantly cleared your throat, and his attention snapped back to you. 

“After leaving I traveled for a couple months. I didn’t really have a specific place I wanted to be.”

“Just away from Blackwatch.”

His voice was sharp, a dark glint in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in him since he’d started training with Reyes. His face was neutral, but his eyes betrayed him. Your hands felt cold. 

“I couldn’t stay.”

“Mierda, y lo sabes.” He spat out, his face contorting into one you didn’t recognize for a split second. You held your breath. It was only for a moment, but it felt as though time had turned to honey. Slow and thick and stifling. Your face burned in guilt.

Jesse’s face fell, all of the viciousness draining away and leaving a hushed confusion in its wake. He slumped over the back of the desk chair, his crossed arms falling to his sides. Despite having bulked up and gaining some muscle, he looked small, not scrawny, like when he’d been picked up. Just small. It was moments like this when you remembered just how young he was. If your memory served correct, he’d just turned 19. He should’ve been going to college or living life. Not been stuck in Blackwatch with a debt to pay.

“There’s nothing I can do now to fix what I didn't do then, Jess. You deserve more than an apology, and I’ve always been shit with words anyways.” He was motionless, his eyes staring off into your ugly pale grey carpet. You sighed, digging the heels of your bandaged palms into your closed eyes. “God Jess, I’m sorry kid. I should have been there for you.”

He crossed his arms over the top of the chair, hiding his face from you. His whole body was tense. A lump was welling up in your throat. Jesse’s shoulders shook once, a barely perceptible movement. You stood, crossing over to him and tentatively resting a hand on his flannel clad shoulder. He tensed up even more, if that was even possible. A muffled sniffle met your ears. Your hand gently rubbed his shoulder. 

“Hey, I’m here now. I won’t be leaving any time soon.” 

Jesse’s shoulders shook. 

“Come here kid.” 

The boy jolted onto his feet, twisting to pull you into a hug, his shaky chin resting on your shoulder. The chair rolled away. Your arms wrapped around him. He shook as his sobs wracked his body. You squeezed him a little tighter. 

“You can’t leave like that again.”

You thought back to Reyes’ promise that you’d only be staying for one more mission. You couldn’t bring yourself to promise anyone anything.

You nodded tentatively into the hug, unable to verbally affirm him with what he needed, and feeling nothing but leagues of crushing guilt.

...

Rather than waiting for Reyes in your dorm, you found yourself wandering the halls of the Watchpoint. This wasn’t a long lasting endeavor. It was a bit much. The hustle and bustle of the halls, the constant ins and outs of faces. 

You’d become accustomed to quiet life, keeping on the move and away from the prying eyes of neighbors and the prying questions in bars. The quick moving, loud talking bodies set your heart off, beating in your throat and making your gut roll. 

So your walk in the halls was short lived. Instead, you found yourself in the kitchen, pulling one of the barstools from the island across the floor. You clambered atop the stool, pulling the cabinet door open and reaching into the back of the cupboard. You leaned against the fridge door as you groped around blindly. Your bruised hand found the plastic grocery bag, pulling it closer, only to find it empty.

“Found Jesse with it a month ago.”

“Shit!” You darted your hand back. Whirling around, you barely caught your balance, a hand clenched onto the top of the fridge in a white-knuckled grip. Reyes was sitting down, arms crossed, at the island. One of the bottles you’d stashed so long ago was in a loose fist.

You scowled, your painful grip loosening on the fridge. You hopped down, purposefully ignoring his level gaze as you crossed the kitchen. You pulled another cabinet open, snatching a glass. Reyes didn’t say a word, only sliding the bottle of cheap tequila over the counter into your outstretched hand. He watched quietly as you poured yourself too much. You didn’t drink, only stared down into the amber liquid. A sigh escaped your lips, and your eyes slowly slid up to meet his.

“You want any?”

Reyes’ eyebrows knit, studying you a moment too long for your comfort before he nodded. You grabbed another glass, sliding it over upon filling it. The taste was horrible. Then again, you hadn’t bought it for its flavor. Still, you grimaced when you swallowed.

“So he found my stash?”

“Little pendejo was sitting on the roof, smoking a cig when I showed up. That bottle was half gone.” Reyes nose scrunched up after he took a sip. “What is this trash?”

“What’d you do?” You swung back another regrettable gulp as you heaved yourself onto the island, twisting to watch the commander set down his glass. 

“Let him keep the damn bottle. It wasn’t any good, and I didn’t think you’d be back to reclaim it.”

You smirked, turning back to the suddenly empty glass in your hand. Reyes’ eyes burned into your back as you poured yourself more. His voice was low as he spoke.

“Why’d you come down here?”

“Didn’t want to be in my room, and the halls were...”

“Too busy?”

“...Yeah.” You licked your lips. The taste in your mouth was bitter and dry. You could feel the warmth of the alcohol in your cheeks and face. 

“So you come down here to get drunk?” You can't decide what tone he’s using, whether he’s angry or annoyed or whatever. You twist back around to look at him, anger finding its way into your voice. 

“Where’s the problem in that, sir?”

His eyebrows are pulled down over his dark, dark eyes. You don’t really know how to label the look on his face. It’s not plainly anger, there’s a certain concern there. 

“Don’t give me your fucking pity Reyes. This whole mess, is my fault. I got uncomfortable with the shit we were getting into. I left, and the girl who I think I _might_ have loved, was murdered in some shithole because of it. I don’t deserve pity, and I’m not going to feel sorry for the consequences of what I called having a ‘conscience’!” 

Your chest was heaving. Reyes’ face went blank. You slammed your empty glass onto the countertop. He stood, his hand going to his pocket. You stared him down as he placed the room keycard onto the countertop.

“This is her dorm key. It’s yours now. Her case file has been opened to you, along with her profile.” Your eyes fell to his hand. What had you just done. Dread and guilt pooled in your gut. 

You opened your mouth, starting to say something as your wide-eyed gaze met his. The words died on your bitter tongue. You turned back away from him, your hands knitting together and falling limply into your lap. Reyes had left the kitchen before you could get anything else out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait, I’ve been going through some tough things and so I don’t really know how to write right now. 
> 
> On a pretty personal note, this is was a really hard chapter for me to write. A friend of mine passed away recently, and this chapter hit pretty close to home. Every version I wrote through didn’t really work for me, and so I sort of settled on this one. 
> 
> I’ll try to update a little more often, because I love writing for both you guys and myself. It’s just a matter of making the words show up. Thank you for reading this trash.

**Author's Note:**

> YikesTM.
> 
> I've been working on this fic for literally two months and it's been edited and rewritten and the plot has changed literally 17 times. This was originally a Morrison fic but then it was a 76 fic, and then the timeline was weird so I made it a Reyes fic. 
> 
> Anyways, I wouldn't have these issues if Blizzard could get their shit together and write lore that works with each other. Blizzard I love you, but.... plz.


End file.
